Deep in the "misty murkwood" forest, atop a hill where the leafy canopy thinned, a figure sat, his entire body bloody, atop a gnarled boulder. His hand clutched a strange orb, enveloped by a ragged piece of cloth. The figure's countenance bore an uncanny aspect, part human, part bovine, with two bull horns protruding from his head, yet unmistakably he was humanoid in shape. As still and unyielding as a statue, he brooded in silence, as if carved from the very stone beneath him.
Beside the bull-headed figure lay the scorched remains of some green-clad students, the guards, and the leather-masked strangers Asrar had encountered earlier, all of them reduced to lifeless husks. Amidst the macabre debris strewn across the grim battlefield, some red-robed figures lay lifeless, their hairless heads marked with an insidious sigil, bearing the unmistakable trappings of a cult.
The cult's insignia was a stylized pentagram overlaid with a skull featuring large, curving horns. The pentagram was surrounded by intricate engravings, which were difficult to decipher but seemed to be ancient runes or sigils of some sort. The skull's empty eye sockets were filled with glowing red gems, which seemed to pulsate with a sinister energy. The overall effect of the symbol was both unsettling and mesmerizing, drawing the viewer in with its intricate details and hypnotic aura. It seems to suggest a powerful and malevolent force at work, one that is not to be trifled with lightly.
The figure atop the moss-covered boulder stirred, his cloak rustling in the morning's breeze. With a languid grace, he lifted his head, revealing a hidieous bull face. A low, rasping voice escaped his lips, like the hiss of a serpent.
"The tale of Mirdon has come to pass," he intoned, the words heavy with a weight of foreboding. As he spoke, he cast his gaze to the left, where a shadowy figure emerged from the earth. It materialized before him, rising up from the ground like a bloody mist.
"Master," the cultist in the red robe said in a hushed tone, his voice tinged with a note of concern. "The Supreme Hierophant has issued new orders. We are to retreat; it would seem we have underestimated Raven's Perch's new headmistress. They drew us out with the green cloaks, and the true targets were elsewhere." His words hung heavily in the air, as the ominous red glow of the skull symbol on his head seemed to flicker with an eerie intensity.
"Humph. Most of my brothers and sisters in the other academies succeeded!" With a snarl of rage, the horned figure vaulted from the rocky outcropping and landed heavily on the ground below. "False information," he growled, his eyes gleaming with malice. "The seer will pay dearly for this." He clenched his fists, his powerful muscles bulging beneath his dark, mottled skin. "But sooner than later, I will deal with that whore!" he hissed, turning to face his red-robed subordinate. "We will regroup with the others and make a new plan. And this time, I will not fail."
Amidst the carnage of the battlefield, a single spear stood erect, jutting towards the sky. The tip of the spear bore an unspeakable sight: a human head hanging from it, its features frozen in a look of utter horror. The eyes of the severed head stared blankly into the vast expanse of the sky, as if in disbelief of its death.
If Asrar or the others had been present, they would certainly have recognized that head—it was the head of Master Keiran, the renowned tracker and instructor of the green cloaks.
The bull headed figure's fingers closed around the head, and with a sickening crunch, it shattered into a gory mess of bones and gore. Blood and brain matter dripped from his hand as he tossed the remains to the ground with a disgusted snarl.
"Let us depart; if I were to suffer punishment but keep my life, you lot would not have a good ending!" He growled toward his subordinate, and without another word, they both began to sink into the ground, their forms transforming into a bloody mist that disappeared into the earth.
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Inside the halls of the green cloaks' dormitories, screams of terror and horror echoed through the air. The noble students, returning to their chambers after the incident, stumbled upon a gruesome sight that would forever be etched in their minds. Bloodied figures, their skin cruelly stripped away, hung upside down from the ceiling, while male corpses lay mutilated, their lower parts savagely hacked off. The females fared no better; their breasts were cruelly gouged out, and the sound of male and female screams filled the air with terror.
Asrar and the others all stood petrified in their places, shocked by the sight before them.
The room was filled with blood and a bit messy, and the figure that was hanged upside down gave it an even more macabre atmosphere.
The sight before them was more horrifying than any of them could have imagined. Morgaine, who was the oldest, crumpled to the ground in a dead faint. Elysia's usually composed demeanor shattered; she staggered backwards and started throwing up. And even Baldwinn, who was sitting on the ground, was ashen-faced and trembling, though Asrar couldn't be certain if it was from the grisly scene or from the wound he had sustained earlier. However, he understood their reactions all too well. After all, they were just children, barely 14 and 15 years old, and despite living in a world where brutality was commonplace, they had yet to see the full extent of its horrors.
In contrast, Asrar remained the calmest of the group, his experience with death lending him a certain detachment from the gruesome scene before them. In his former life, he had been a physician, or more specifically, a toxicologist. He had often been called upon to assist with criminal investigations, and as a result, he had become inured to the sight of corpses.
In his former life, Asrar had been a relatively skilled physician, working closely with medical examiners and coroners to help determine the cause and manner of death in cases that involved drugs or poisons. He had spent many years honing his expertise, studying the effects of various substances on the human body and perfecting his ability to identify even the most subtle signs of toxicity.
However, even though Asrar's years of experience had prepared him for the gruesome realities of his profession, the scene before him was unlike anything he had ever encountered. The manner of the figure's death was too cruel; its skin was cut with an unnatural precision that suggested a level of skill and malice beyond anything he had seen before. The figure's face had been brutally flayed, the skin carefully removed in a way that was both precise and horrifying. Asrar could not help but feel a shiver run down his spine as he gazed upon the grisly remains, his mind reeling at the thought of what kind of creature could be capable of such a heinous act.
He wanted to flee like the others, afraid that the one responsible for the this might still be lurking nearby, watching from the shadows and waiting to strike again. But then, something caught his eye: a crude message written with blood etched into the wall above: "The monastery of light should not prevail." He came to a halt and began examining his surroundings more carefully.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Those are the exact words the shrouded being kept saying in my dreams.
Asrar searched the area around the wall with a keen eye, examining every inch of the ground for any sign of the perpetrator's presence. But despite his best efforts, he found nothing of note; the area was a mangled, bloody mess with no apparent rhyme or reason.
Frustrated, Asrar turned his attention to the corpse itself, hoping to find some clue or indication of what might have transpired here. But, once again, his efforts were futile, as the corpse lacked any distinguishing features. The corpse had no skin, no hair, no teeth, and even no nails; Asrar couldn't imagine what kind of torment the person had to go through.
Just as he was about to give up, his eye was drawn to a glimmering object on the ground. Kneeling down, he picked it up, his heart pounding with anticipation. It was a ring, nothing special to look at, a simple and unadorned band of metal.
Asrar's attention was drawn back to the hanged corpse, and he approached it once more. His gaze fell upon the corpse's legs, and he noticed a small, red-soaked patch of clothing.
Determined to uncover any possible clues, Asrar sprang into action, grabbing a nearby stool and a sharp cooking knife. He climbed onto the stool and quickly sliced through the rope that bound the corpse to the roof, causing it to fall forward with a sickening thud.
However, after another round of investigating the bloody corpse, he found nothing else.
His eyes settled on the red cloth on the palm of his hand. It was almost imperceptible, camouflaged by the gruesome sight of the blood-soaked corpse. With a careful hand, he tucked away both the ring and the red cloth, and then he swiftly picked up two rushes and a bowl filled with fragrant herbs, followed by a mortar. He placed the somewhat sharp cooking knife on his pant leg before leaving the place
He had acquired the herbs from Briom Town during his travels back toward the academy. He had come across them by chance while passing by the carriage and had managed to purchase them at a reasonable price, as they were abundant in the surrounding wilderness. In addition to the herbs, he also bought a simple looking mortar and a pestle there.
Elysia had already pushed Morgaine up the wall, attempting to wake her up with a couple of slaps.
"Just let her be," Asrar spoke hurriedly, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger. "We can't afford to linger here any longer. We must make haste and move everyone to the well near the infirmary."
He chose the well near the infirmary because it provided three benefits that he could not overlook. Firstly, the terrain near the well was smooth and would provide a much-needed respite for his friends. Secondly, he was in need of some water to treat Baldwinn. And lastly, the infirmary was heavily guarded, making it a relatively safer option.
In less than a quarter of an hour, the group finally arrived at the academy's infirmary, which was guarded by two sentries. Asrar and Elysia were both exhausted and struggling to keep going, but they pressed on despite their pain. Two guards in the vicinity quickly noticed their condition and offered to carry their friends to the infirmary, but Asrar refused, asking for their help near the well instead.
Although the guards were confused, they still agreed to help since they were mere commoners and knew the consequences of getting on the wrong side of a noble. They carefully lifted Baldwinn, who was on the verge of passing out, and Morgaine, who had fainted, and carried them towards the well. Asrar followed closely, trying to keep his balance and ignoring the exhaustion shooting through his body.
He then bowed his head slightly, expressing his gratitude to the two guards who stood before him. To his surprise, the guards seemed genuinely pleased by his courteous behavior. They exchanged a glance and nodded in unison, indicating their willingness to assist him in any way they could. Which Asrar readily agreed to.
"Could you please assist me in obtaining some sturdy piece of wood, umm..." he asked the older of the two guards. "Young lord, my name is Eddard, and this is my younger brother Eledrid; we'll gladly help you, the both of us." Eddard spoke in a respectful manner. Such courtesy was rare and unexpected, since most guards were known to be taciturn and obedient, offering little more than a nod or a grunt in response to requests. But these brothers seemed different.
"Thank you; your assistance is much appreciated, Eddard," replied Asrar gratefully, his voice laced with urgency. "Might I also request that you procure some bandages or clean clothes if those are not available?" The two guards nodded obediently, and they set off to carry out the task at hand. Swiftly, they disappeared into the infirmary, their footsteps echoing faintly as they navigated the terrain.
Meanwhile, Elysia helped him wheel the water out of the well, and it didn't take long for the two sibiling guards to return with some pieces of sturdy wood and clean bandages.
As Asrar attended to Baldwinn's injuries, he knew that he needed to use a poultice to aid the healing process. Delicately, he gathered three potent herbs—comfrey, plantain, and yarrow—each renowned for its restorative properties. After washing and drying the herbs, he ground them meticulously with the mortar and pestle, ensuring that they were finely powdered.
However, he did not possess any healing salve or oil, so he added a few drops of water to the mixture and stirred it thoroughly, watching as the powder transformed into a thick, creamy paste. Carefully, he applied the poultice to the long wound on Baldwinn's belly, mindful of the pain it might cause. The injured man winced as the paste was smoothed onto his skin, but soon the discomfort subsided.
He also applied the poultice to Baldwinn's twisted ankle before wrapping it in a bandage to keep it in place and strapping it with a long stick to immobilize the ankle.
Asrar's skilled techniques were quick and precise, causing the guards to stare in awe at his abilities. The brothers knew a thing or two about bandaging wounds, but Asrar's expertise was truly remarkable. However, they were completely unaware of his use of a poultice. In their knowledge, they believed that only clerics blessed with divine power could effectively heal and close injuries, and that herbs and plants were solely used for cooking or as poison.
Despite the nobility's tendency to be aloof and distant, Eddard simply shrugged it off as some of the noble families’ tendencies. And instead, he chose to compliment Asrar's impressive skills, acknowledging the young lord's remarkable ability to tend to wounds with ease. "It's not often we see such proficiency in bandaging among the young nobility," Eddard praised, offering his sincere admiration to Asrar.
Did he just use the art of healing that the monastery of light admonished in the last century?
But, unlike the oblivious guards, Elysia was aware of what he was doing and narrowed her eyes but remained silent.
Having successfully tended to Baldwinn's wounds, Asrar turned his attention to Morgaine. However, he quickly realized the young lady was merely unconscious and not in any immediate danger. Satisfied that she was stable, he decided to let her rest and turned his attention to his own needs. Exhausted from the intense and demanding work of healing, he found a comfortable spot near the well and settled down to rest. Leaning against the cool stone, he allowed himself a moment of peace, his mind drifting to the events of the day.
The guards, seeing that "young lord" no longer needed help, bade him farewell and returned to the infirmary, helping and supporting other students there.
Elysia sighed in relief and sat beside Asrar, and the two of them stared into the distance, staying quiet for a long time.
As silence descended on the group, Elysia's hesitant whisper pierced the stillness. "There are no masters, no black cloaks, and no purple cloaks," she said, her voice heavy with doubt. "It's almost as if they've vanished, leaving only the guards and the two clerics behind." Asrar had already considered this, but he remained quiet for some time, lost in his own thoughts. Elysia's confusion was mirrored in her grey eyes, which blinked uncertainly as they searched for answers.
"And Adela and Gawain are nowhere in sight." She sighed, and her shoulders slumped in dejection.
Asrar eventually broke his silence, saying, "There are three possible explanations." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Either the academy masters are battling the intruders as we speak, or the headmistress ordered an evacuation because the danger was too great. However, this doesn't explain why the clerics were left behind. Thus, the third option is..." Asrar's voice trailed off, and Elysia's eyes widened in shock, but before she could say anything, a soft feminine voice interrupted, "Or we have been used as bait." Elysia's face immediately twisted in disgust as she recognized the speaker.
Asrar and Elysia turned to see a young lady with a curvaceous figure, black hair, and striking, serpent-like eyes. In her hand was a peculiar claw-like weapon, and behind her stood an injured man holding a bow. Asrar instantly recognized her; she was Elspeth, the skilled young lady who almost defeated Eadric's team in the boar trial. The man behind her was none other than the bad archer who had nearly taken Asrar's life with a headshot. Asrar gave Owen a fierce glare, which seemed to confuse the latter.
Observing Elysia's snort at the lady's arrival, Asrar deduced that there must have been some kind of unpleasant encounter between them, so he chose not to inquire about it.
"Please forgive my presumption. My words are but an assumption and should not be taken as the truth." He added quickly, lest this stranger girl start spreading rumors about him disparaging the academy.
"Ha-ha, do not worry. I am no loud mouth; you can ask Lady Elysia if you doubt my words! She can vouch for my discretion," she teased, glancing towards Elysia, who now wore a disapproving look. "Though I must say, I have yet to see Elysia this intimate with a gentleman. You must be quite the charmer," Elspeth continued with a flirtatious smile, ignoring Elysia's condensing glare.